Trojan Walls
by Carlisle Cooperative
Summary: Rose and Ten visit Asia Minor. It just so happens that they arrive during the beginning of a historic siege.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** – Trojan Walls, Chapter 1 of 2  
**Author** **– **The Carlisle Cooperative**  
Rating – **K+**  
Spoilers – **Not if you've seen S1 or S2**  
Disclaimer – **Alas, neither the Doctor nor Rose (nor even the TARDIS) belong to the Carlisle Cooperative. We write this story out of deep love and respect for the characters, especially as created by RTD, but recognize that they are the property of the BBC.**  
Summary –** Rose and Ten visit Asia Minor. It just so happens that they arrive during the beginning of a historic siege. **  
Author's Notes – **Two months ago, lj user"lunawho" posted a a href" http://community. on Time and Chips, asking for a Ten/Rose fic set during the Fall of Troy and involving the epics. We didn't exactly hit all of the requests, but we gave it a shot.

1"Move, woman!" A hand shoved her forward, propelling her further down the stone tunnel, torchlight flickering both in front of and behind her. The smell of sweaty bodies was oppressive, and the chaotic noise of battle could be felt as well as heard through the stones.

They emerged into a cool chamber, deep in the bowels of the fortress. Several women, light clothing flowing around lithe limbs, dark hair piled in gravity-defying styles were awaiting them and looked up as the clutch of soldiers stumbled out of the steeply angled tunnel; some of the women wore expressions of surprise, others ones of awe. To a woman, they bowed low—knees on the ground, bodies bent forward--as the lead soldier looked behind him, clearly searching for someone. "Milady. Your serving women. They will look after you." He reached back, his muscular arm threading through the phalanx of soldiers, his large hand closing around the forearm of the woman he was clearly addressing. Pulling her forward, he thrust her towards the still-bowed ladies-in-waiting.

The blonde woman looked around her, clearly at a loss. "Er...rise?"

The women rose from the ground at the command, ten pairs of eyes giving appraising looks to their new mistress. The oldest of the group took a step forward, looking towards the soldiers in a clear gesture of dismissal. The rasp of leather and armour could be heard as the soldiers vacated the small chamber, returning to the battle above. The blonde turned to watch them, confusion evident on her face; when the last man was gone, she turned back to the brunette who was preparing to speak. "Milady. It is an honour to be allowed to serve you. I am Diana; please, allow us to assist you. The dust of travel lies thick upon you, and after your arduous journey we are certain you would like a rest." The lady curtseyed before turning and clapping her hands sharply. The other nine ladies giggled slightly as they left the room rapidly — perhaps to prepare a bath? The blonde fervently hoped so. It had been a long day, and she could do with something soothing right about now. Diana turned back to her. "We understand your clothing may not have made it through the lines, we will have some made for you." Her gaze became curious. "These are the most unusual clothes; we will have to discuss styles with the modiste! Come, let us go."

As they walked through the cool stone halls, torches providing pools of light at regular intervals, Diana's voice provided a running commentary. "Of course we'd been expecting you sooner; the journey was surely trying?" The blonde nodded, figuring that was what had been expected of her. "Shame they felt the need to interfere in affairs which were none of their concern. If they'd just let things be, you'd be someplace nice, travelling in the style you deserve, honeymooning with your new husband; not having to be snuck in through back doors in the middle of a fight as that husband of yours leads warriors. What I want to know is how did all of those Achaeans get here so quickly? Surely the Gods would have aided your journey and not theirs?" Diana continued to ramble as they walked quickly, up flights of stairs, through more hallways, down a flight of stairs, through yet more hallways, up one last flight of stairs. They had not passed a single window during their journey.

They paused in front of a sturdy wooden door. "Ah, here we are. We'll soon have you right as rain!" With that, the maid pushed the door open to reveal a sunny room, a complete contrast to what she had seen so far. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all pure white marble, gossamer curtains billowing gently in the warm breeze coming through the large windows at the far end of the room. The furniture was light and airy, befitting the surroundings, and a low table off to the side held a pitcher, a cup, and some fresh fruit. After the darkness of the journey, the room was blindingly bright. A young woman hurried up to Diana, and whispered in her ear. Diana beamed and turned to the still-confused newcomer. "Ah, perfect. The bath is ready."

After a soothing bath of warm water laced with essential oils and herbs, then a visit with the modiste, Diana led her new charge to what looked to be a divan. "There's a bit of time before the evening meal; of course, everybody will be so eager to meet you and hear about the journey and our boy's daring rescue of you from those louts. Rest up; we'll be back shortly after sunset." Diana yet again clapped her hands, the order once more perfectly understood by the women in the room. In seconds, the marble room was empty save for the confused woman now sitting on the divan.

"Well, Rose, you've certainly got yourself into quite the mess this time," she said to the empty room. Taking a look around, she decided to take advantage of the offer of sleep; one never quite knew when opportunities for rest would crop up when travelling with the Doctor and it seemed best to take advantage of the offer from friendly locals. Based off of the basics the Doctor had provided when they'd landed--"Ooh, Asia Minor! Whoa, where'd those troops come from?"--Rose had a sinking feeling she had landed smack in the middle of one of the wars described in the dusty old tomes in the TARDIS library. The Doctor had read several of them to her during their many nights curled together in front of the fireplace, but she was still a bit fuzzy on the specifics of each of them (how much of that was due to their becoming distracted as they lay snuggled together was unclear). They had mentioned Troy...which war was that? One of the Peloponnesian ones? She pondered for a bit, relaxing her mind to try to jog the memory loose. The Trojan! Paris, Helen, Menelaus, Achilles—the names started to come back to her as she focussed. Rose wondered who they thought she was as she relaxed into a light sleep.

She dozed briefly, imagining herself and the Doctor outside the walls of the fortress she found herself in; hand-in-hand, walking through a field of flowers. A storm suddenly swept in, darkening the sky, the wind pulling them apart, and as she felt herself shaken awake she could hear his voice in her mind, calling frantically for her. She blinked, trying to focus, and found Diana leaning over her in the torchlight. "Milady, it's time to prepare for the evening meal." She helped Rose to stand, and Rose noticed several of the ladies-in-waiting milling around the edges of the room. "Let's get you dressed and primped, shall we?" The echoes of the Doctor's frantic voice were still reverberating in her mind, distracting her as the women draped her in light fabrics and began to style her hair. She must have dozed off again, because suddenly Diana was lightly shaking her shoulder. "Milady?" Rose shook her head slightly, noticing curls bouncing at the periphery of her vision; when had that happened?

"I'm sorry. My mind was miles away."

Diana gave her a knowing smile. "No doubt thinking of your handsome gentleman." Rose blushed, and Diana's smile grew. "Not to worry, he may yet join us tonight for the meal." Rose couldn't help the look of surprise that coloured her features; when last she had seen him, the Doctor had been cornered by many large, angry soldiers, demanding to know who he was and why the lady was with him. Tie askew and suit hopelessly dusty and rumpled from his roughing up, he had looked on helplessly as she had been dragged away from him, both of them proclaiming their innocence of whatever crime they were accused. Diana continued. "Oh, yes, he came in late this afternoon. He seems most happy and eager to see you again."

It was a short walk through the hallways, and Rose was surprised to find herself led not to another room, but to a small courtyard. There were several small couches arranged around low tables, the entire scene illuminated by hanging lamps. Rose searched the tableau for the Doctor, and was disappointed to find he wasn't there—although there were still three sofas that remained unoccupied. As they walked out into the night air, those who were already reclining stood to acknowledge her arrival. She wasn't quite sure what to do, and so settled for inclining her head in acknowledgement. Diana fussed as Rose settled on to her couch; she was suddenly quite grateful that she had been to ancient Rome on her adventures with the Doctor. She reclined on her left side, shifting around to get comfortable in the unusual position, as Diana moved a small table to within easy reach of Rose's right hand.

"Friends, we are honoured that you could join us tonight. In our midst, we have royalty, a daughter of the Gods come to bless us with her love for our son. I present to you, Helen!" The gentleman who had been speaking—her host?--gestured dramatically in Rose's direction as her jaw dropped. Surely he was kidding?

The guests continued to stare at her, clearly expecting something. She collected herself and smiled weakly. "It is my honour to be in such company?" That appeared to be enough, and the servants began to serve the first course, fruit sliced into dainty pieces and drizzled with honey and walnuts. Rose's stomach growled, as it occurred to her she hadn't eaten since she and the Doctor had arrived that morning. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she was fairly sure she was going to kill him when he arrived for dinner.

She had just begun to nibble on the offering in front of her when she heard motion behind her.

"Ionnas! So glad you could make it, even if you are late." The older gentleman who had welcomed her beamed at whoever had just walked in. She heard a non-committal grunt, then some shifting and grating as the tardy individual settled in to the sofa next to hers. She was just reaching towards for more of the sweet fruit dish when she heard a familiar voice from off to her left.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The shocking familiarity of the voice—a voice that shouldn't exist, not anymore--caused her to overbalance, leading her to fall forward off her couch. She looked up at the owner of the voice, certain she had mis-heard. A pair of brilliant blue eyes stared back at her.

What was i _he /i _ doing here?

Five billion languages came in especially handy in times such as these, the Doctor contemplated as he navigated the narrow, crowded road at a pace that would put a cheetah on speed to shame. Five billion languages meant having a great many colourful obscenities at one's disposal, all of which he was currently stringing together under his breath. About half a dozen soldiers, large and heavily-armed- and considerably angry, from the sound of it- were on his heels. Additionally, and more importantly, he desperately needed to find out where Rose had been taken to.

_ i __Really must stop misplacing companions_, /i he told himself sternly.

He nimbly dodged a cart and a rather surprised-looking woman, turned a sharp corner in the road, and almost quite literally hit a wall.

Not just a wall - the fortress wall. The Doctor craned his neck back and contemplated its massive height and excellent stone masonry. Really quite wonderful craftsmen, these Trojans, just ahead of their time as far as mortar was concerned, really...

The shouting behind him was getting louder, the soldiers getting closer. He glanced from side to side, and up at the wall again, considering options. There was a great possibility of there being something Very Excellent on the other side. Or perhaps simply less soldiers.

_ i __Besides /i _, the Doctor reasoned, i _it's just a wall, and I'm a Lord of Time...with plimsolls. /i _

This seemed to be the absolute best plan of action, and the advancing soldiers, not surprisingly, did not attempt to follow him.

"Not too bad," he mused aloud as he pulled himself up over the top with some effort and started on the descent to the bottom, keeping up a cheery external monologue. "Nah, it should be i _harder /i _ to escape Troy, it's as if there isn't a battle going on at all...now, Centauri Seven, on the other hand..."

His feet touched solid ground, and he turned at an abrupt sound behind him.

"Oh," he said with surprise. "Hello!"

Rose looked up at the man staring down at her and boggled slightly.

"Milady!" Diana bustled over to her, taking her arm and pulling her back up from the floor. "Milady, are you hurt?"

Rose dragged her eyes away with some effort to address the concerned woman at her side, and reminded her mouth how to make proper words. "No, no, I'm fine." The entirety of the courtyard was by now looking at the commotion she had caused, and she waved a hand at them distractedly. "Um...please continue?"

They did, thankfully, and Diana fussed about her until she was safely positioned back on the sofa before returning to the side of the courtyard. There was still one empty sofa left in the room, and Rose suddenly hoped it wasn't for theDoctor. That could be awkward.

"Ionnas! You've not met our guest!"

The Doctor—her i _first /i _ Doctor, and wasn't that odd?—looked at their host briefly, surprised to realize there were other people in the room, before turning back to Rose. "No, I don't believe I have." Rose was gratified to see the Doctor looking as gobsmacked as she felt. His eyes—how had she forgotten the depth and brightness of that shade of blue?—were frightening in their intensity; the Doctor looked rather as though he was trying to see inside her head.

That answered that question, then. He knew exactly who she was. So when was this for him? Where was she? She didn't remember visiting Troy...

"It is our very great privilege to have Paris's bride Helen join us tonight. She only just arrived today—I'm impressed she's here and not saving her energy for...other things."

The group laughed; Rose prayed for a hole to open up under her sofa. The Doctor did not laugh, but instead gave her an appraising look.

"That so? Helen, eh? Sparta? Swept off your feet, no doubt, by a handsome stranger? Promised to take you to new places, on to a new life?" Rose tried to remember that the Doctor was talking about the here and now—about Paris and the Trojans—and not about what had actually happened when he'd burst in to her life. "You realize what's going on here?" His voice dropped to a whisper. Rose nodded weakly; the Doctor looked nonplussed. "How'd you get here, then?"

Rose swallowed. There was no way she could tell him the truth—not in front of this group, and not until she had a fair idea of when this was for him, personal timeline-wise. She'd lost this Doctor to Reapers once; she never wanted it to happen again. She remembered the dungeon in Cardiff, on only their second adventure together; "I saw the fall of Troy!" Here and now, he knew her; Cardiff had only been days after he'd blown up Henriks. There was only a very short period of time where this could fall for him.

He cleared his throat. Rose returned her focus to the dining area, and noticed everyone looking at her expectantly.

"Surely it's a tale of derring-do, hero rushing in and saving the poor lonely girl? Rescuing her from her life in a gilded cage? Escape by boat, pirates, that sort of thing?" the Doctor prodded her. Rose remained reluctant. She didn't recall much about the Trojan War. The Doctor—her current one—had been determined to read her the classics shortly after their stop on Delphos. After a week spent apart battling alien megalomaniacs who had taken on the forms of Greek Gods, Rose had been rather more intent on making up for lost time with the Doctor than learning about the fate of ancient City-states. He'd tried to further her education by reading the Iliad or the Odyssey several more times, but each attempt had met with the same result as his first effort.

"Well, uh..."

A matronly woman—the host's wife?--took pity on her. "Oh, do leave her alone, Ionnas. Can't you see it was a terrible trip for her? Can you imagine what it must have been like? Bad enough to have had to live where she did—then they had that horrible time in Egypt! No, far better for us to talk of the happy future instead." Rose smiled gratefully, and then turned back to the Doctor. It was only then that she realized he was clad as he had always been—black leather jacket, jumper (navy blue), black jeans, Doc Martens. And he still managed to look as though he belonged in that time and place.

Their host laughed. "Ionnas does love to ask that of everyone he meets. He's notoriously tight-lipped about his own path here—he seems to have sprung, fully formed, out of the earth outside the walls—but he loves to hear of other's adventures. Maybe, one of these days, he'll finally go off and have adventures of his own."

Rose choked back a laugh. "Surely you have an interesting tale to tell, sir?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

The Doctor did not look best pleased. "Nope, nothing interesting about me. But I did see the most amazing thing out in the agora today..." With that, the Doctor steered the conversation away to lighter, safer topics. Throughout the rest of the meal, he and Rose barely acknowledged each other's presence.

"Are you positive you do not want me to send for the physician?" Diana stood over her bed and looked at her fretfully. "You still look ever so pale, milady."

Rose thought that she was probably causing this woman more stress than a handmaid was used to on any given day. "No, no, I...I'm just tired, I think. I'll be fine after I get some sleep."

Diana's frown cleared a little, although she did not seem completely reassured. "Of course you are tired, the trip must have been quite exhausting...is there anything else you require? Would you like me to stay with you until you are asleep?"

"No," Rose replied, a little too hurriedly, "that's really alright, Diana, thank you. But you must be tired yourself."

The woman smiled. "I am quite used to very late nights here. Sleep well, milady."

Rose watched Diana leave the darkened room and shut the heavy wooden door firmly behind her, before letting go a faint sigh of relief.

"Right," she said out loud, getting her wits in order, and slid out of the overstuffed silk-laden bed, taking a flickering candle with her. Her head was still spinning from the events at dinner - events that made getting out of the present situation and finding the Doctor—her current Doctor--all the more urgent.

There may have been guards posted outside the doors of her room, but there were also very large windows. Windows, Rose thought, were excellent escape routes, and luckily Rose was equally excellent at escaping.

The latticed wooden shutters covering the openings were latched but not locked, and she almost laughed at the ease of it as she swung one side outwards into the warm night. Not quite as close to the ground as she would have liked, but she was above a garden, and it was empty, and quiet, and very dark...so what was a little climbing down a vine-encrusted stone wall?

"Piece of cake," Rose muttered to herself reassuringly, and swung both legs over the windowsill, found what could pass for hand- and footholds, and began to inch her way toward terra firma below.

"That's i _beautiful /i _," the Doctor enthused, momentarily and easily distracted by the superior workmanship of the gigantic spear that was hovering inches away from his nose.

"I won't ask you again," said the person that the spear was attached to. "Who are you? And who sent you?"

The Doctor snapped to attention. "Oh! Right!" He patted his jacket pockets, frowning slightly in concentration as he pulled out the psychic paper and flashed it in front of the spear-wielding man's eyes.

The man quickly pulled the weapon back to his side and looked profusely sorry. "My apologies, Syntagmatarcha, I did not know it was you. Follow me, please. The regiment has been waiting for you."

The Doctor eyed the psychic paper appraisingly. "Ah! Colonel! Could be worse, I suppose. Where did you say we were going?"

"The regiment awaits your inspection," the man said over his shoulder as he walked on along the wall, past a dry moat and numerous guards going about their business and scattered tents made of fluttering cloth illuminated by flickering torches.

"Right, well, you see," said the Doctor brightly, "I'm looking for someone, a friend, just inside the wall there, so if -"

"Sir, surely you know that our situation is urgent," the man replied, "I am sure that in due time, we will be able to spare someone to inquire after your friend. Now, I am to bring you to meet with the General."

"Impressive," said an unexpected familiar voice, breaking the silence.

Startled, Rose grasped at the stonework, overbalanced, and immediately felt herself begin to slip from her already precarious position.

"Oh, i _shit /i _-"

She fell the rest of the short distance, conveniently missing a large leafy bush and instead landing in an ungraceful heap on the very hard ground.

"Ah, well, maybe not so impressive," the familiar voice continued, bemused enough that Rose thought she would have offered up a slap had she not been occupied with pain in every conceivable part of her body and a faceful of dirt and grass.

"Ughh," she replied instead from her sprawled place on the ground, and concentrated on making sure that her various limbs were still in working order.

Hands on her arms were pulling her up, helping her into a standing position, steadying her and holding her by the shoulders.

"Daft ape, what did you think you were doing?"

"Escaping."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders abruptly. "Dinner was that bad?"

She could barely make out his features, the garden was so shadowed, but his brilliant blue eyes blazed at her in what little sparse light spilled from the nearby windows.

"Yeah," she managed. "Terrible."

"Rose Tyler," he said, casual, as if not a thing was out of the ordinary. "Didn't think I would see you again."

_ i __Of course /i _, Rose realised, i _I'm not with /i _this_ i him - not yet, anyway /i _. "Same here."

He raised an eyebrow. "And who are you swannin' through time with, then?"

Oh, she thought, and readied herself for a lecture on the imminent dangers of crossing time lines. "I...with you. I've been with you."

Something like surprise flickered across his face briefly.

"It's okay," she continued hurriedly, and didn't really know what else was entirely safe to say. "You...he's not here, we got separated outside, I dunno what happened...so you shouldn't run into each other or anything."

But he shook his head in contradiction. "This is bad. Shouldn't have happened." He looked at her intently. "You can't tell me anything, got that? Just that I know that you're here with me is bad enough."

She smiled a bit ruefully at that. "Got it."

She should have started moving, walking away. She had another Doctor out there to find, as soon as possible, before some rift in time happened and gobbled all of them up. But she stood in the moonlit garden with this Doctor and drank him in. Oh, she missed him. She wished she could hug him without causing a paradox or something.

"So what now?" he asked.

She realized she was staring at him and blinked out of it. "Now, uh…Well, I'll go find him…you…and—"

"Yeah, but how're you gonna do that?"

She hadn't really thought about it. Step One: Get out of her room. Step Two: Figure out Step Two. She glanced around the garden. "Well, I—"

He sighed heavily. She'd forgotten that special, patronizing sigh of his. "Come on." He set off along the dim, leafy path.

She looked after him, trying to figure out whether or not this was a good idea.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Well?"

She stopped hesitating. What was she i _doing /i _? This was a gift—a marvellous gift from the universe. One more lark with her old, old Doctor, appreciating every moment of it.

She ran down the path after him.

"Where'd you say this general was again?" The Doctor was growing impatient. Sure, their spears were beautiful, as were their horses, their armour, their shields, their tents. But there were only so many compliments he could give when it was growing progressively darker and he was no closer to getting Rose back. He'd inspected his bloody regiment, now it was time to get back into Troy.

"He's on his way, sir," said one of the foot soldiers, who was lighting torches around the tent to combat the twilight. "He has had to stop to perform spot inspections."

"Spot inspections," muttered the Doctor, dismissively. "You don't understand. My friend—"

"Yes, sir," said the foot soldier, with an air of exasperation. "We know about your friend, sir. We've sent word to the Strategos. Here."

The Doctor frowned but automatically took the goblet that was thrust into his hands. He didn't drink. He was busy fretting. It was properly night now. Soon it would be quite dark. He'd been separated from Rose for hours. And if anything happened to her—if anyone so much as i _breathed /i _ on her the wrong way—

"Ah! Syntagmatarcha!" exclaimed a voice.

The Doctor looked up from his contemplation of the contents of his goblet. Two men had entered the tent. They were both much larger than he was, weighed down with gleaming armour, pieces of which they began shedding immediately. And they both grinned at him in greeting, the grins showing laugh lines that creased through the dust on their faces. The Doctor stood up. Maybe, finally, it was time for action.

"It is so good to finally meet you," continued one of the new arrivals, removing his helmet to reveal a head of dark, thick hair, curling with sweat. He dropped the helmet negligently to the ground, where a foot soldier immediately scurried to reverently retrieve it.

"We have heard much," added the other arrival, accepting a fresh mantle for his shoulders from another foot soldier, "of the discipline of your regiment."

"Have you? Excellent. That's excellent. Listen, I have this friend—"

"That's an interesting garment," said one of the generals, thoughtfully, regarding the Doctor's coat with interest, as a foot soldier came hurrying up and glanced suspiciously at the Doctor. The man bent down a bit, and the foot soldier began whispering in urgent tones in his ear.

"You were saying, Syntagmatarcha?" asked the man not preoccupied with the foot soldier, politely.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "My friend—"

"Excuse me," interrupted the general who was conversing with the foot soldier. "Odysseus. If I could have a word."

The Doctor blinked in astonishment.

"Just a moment," the man called Odysseus said to the Doctor, and wandered off to a corner of the tent, where there was a whispered consultation, before the foot soldier dashed off and Odysseus returned. "I apologize. You were saying?"

"Are you Odysseus? Husband of Penelope, father of Telemachus?" asked the Doctor. What good luck! What brilliant good luck!

Odysseus looked surprised. "Well, yes. I thought you knew that. I'm Odysseus. This is Achilles. Who did you think we were?"

"Odysseus and Achilles!" The Doctor grinned in delight. "Oh, this is brilliant! This is just i _brilliant /i _! This is…top banana!" He bounced over to Odysseus and gave him an exuberant hug, then the same to Achilles.

Achilles and Odysseus exchanged an amused glance.

"You!" exclaimed the Doctor, pointing at Odysseus, still rising onto his toes in excitement. "You are the cleverest man who ever lived! You really are! You're a genius! You are nearly as clever as me, and that is saying something."

"Odysseus," commented Achilles, wryly, "I do think the Syntagmatarcha is challenging you to a battle of wits. You cannot out-sly Odysseus, you know," Achilles told the Doctor. "It's impossible."

Odysseus laughed, as he settled onto the ground of the tent and a foot soldier brought him a goblet. "Nonetheless, it might be amusing to engage in such a battle, in between bouts of the real war, of course."

The Doctor really could not believe his good luck. If anybody was capable of competently helping him rescue Rose, it would have to be Odysseus. And oh, Rose was going to love this! So what if she always took the opportunity of his opening "The Odyssey" or "The Iliad" to prove her theory that she could seduce a certain Time Lord in thirty seconds flat? Surely she would love to meet Odysseus in the flesh! What stories he could tell!

"So," he began, eagerly. "About my friend—"

"Yes, we have been told of your friend trapped in Troy." Odysseus drank deeply from his goblet. "It is unfortunate but there is nothing we can do for him at the moment."

"It isn't a him, it's a her. And there must be something you can do. I _have_ to get back to her."

Odysseus and Achilles both began laughing.

The Doctor blinked at them. "What's so funny?"

"Well," said Odysseus, "we i _know /i _ there's a woman in Troy who needs to be rescued. It's why we're here. You're quite amusing, Syntagmatarcha."

"I am, actually, very funny, but not just now. Just now I'm very serious. I'm not talking about Helen of—the Helen that you're all here for; I'm talking about another woman."

"What other woman?" asked Achilles, with interest. He was leaning against the pole of the tent, arms folded.

"Her name is Rose Tyler, and she's…my…" Achilles and Odysseus both lifted their eyebrows at him, while he floundered about how to describe her. "She's trapped in Troy!" he finished.

"How did she get trapped in Troy?" inquired Odysseus. "Is she Trojan?"

"No, she's not Trojan, she's…Can't you just help me get her?"

"How are we going to find this woman?" demanded Achilles, sounding irritated. "It will be impossible. What does she look like?"

The Doctor thought. "Well, she's about this tall." He gestured vaguely in the air. "And she's…you know…curvy. And she's got blonde hair and really pretty eyes and—_What_ is so funny?"

Because Odysseus and Achilles had both burst out laughing again.

Achilles walked over to him and dropped a hand on his shoulder, smiling into his eyes. "Once Helen gets to Troy, we promise we'll rescue her. Not much we can do until she gets there."

"She's not there yet?" asked the Doctor.

Achilles dropped his hand and shrugged. "They want us to think she is."

"We're fairly sure her caravan's been delayed."

"Odysseus trusts his spies."

"I trained them," replied Odysseus.

"So Helen's not here yet," clarified the Doctor, slowly, thinking. That meant it was very early on in the war. All of these soldiers had ten more years of staring at the walls of Troy in front of them. And, even more alarmingly… "And Rose looks like her." Enough like her to be mistaken for her? How many strange, blonde women wandered into a Troy under siege? Not very many. The Doctor stared at the city's walls in the distance. "Many things about this are not good."


	2. Chapter 2

When she and her current Doctor had a disagreement, she usually wished for her first Doctor back. He would not have behaved like a daft git, she would tell herself in those moments. He would have been charming and solicitous and perfect. In her head, they were two vastly different personalities. And they _were_ different. The very silence of the Doctor who she was following at the moment drove that home. The new, new Doctor could never have stayed silent so long.

But she had forgotten how much about them was similar. They even walked the same way, no matter where they were, as if they owned whatever planet and time period they happened to be on and in. The same man, she thought. The same man as the one she'd woken up next to that morning, catching him in one of his strange, infrequent, adorable catnaps. And yet, at the same time, she missed him so bloody much.

They reached a gate, and Rose realized they'd come to the end of the garden. The Doctor paused and nudged the gate open, glancing around it. The coast apparently clear, he slipped through, evidently just expecting she would follow. The arrogance never changed either, she thought as she squeezed through the gap in the gate.

He had already begun walking, and she had to hurry to catch up to him, and then he stopped so abruptly that she nearly ran into him.

He turned to face her, frowning thoughtfully.

"What?" She whispered it so quietly, she barely heard it herself.

"Your ruddy hair." His voice was a low growl. "We've got to cover it. A blonde in Troy sticks out like a sore thumb. Even a bottle blonde."

She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him.

Then, he startled her by reaching out very quickly, firmly grasping a length of the gauzy garment she was wearing, and tearing a good chunk of it off. She gasped in startled surprise.

"Shh," he said, and then, without warning, he settled the length of cloth on the top of her head and, a hand holding either end of it, slid his hands under her hair, against her neck.

Rose's eyes widened, as he took a step closer to her, concentrating on his task. He was close now. Close enough so she could smell him, that achingly familiar smell. He was knotting the two lengths of cloth together, his fingertips brushing against the back of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered closed, as an intoxicating warmth flowed through her.

Rose had expected complications when she had fallen in love with an alien. First and foremost had been the concern that they might not be physically compatible, which had turned out not to be a problem. Unless you considered mind-blowing sex to be a problem, which Rose did not. But one of the complications she had not anticipated had been the possibility that she could be reacting to the touch of the man she was shagging and yet feel like she was cheating on the man she was shagging.

She dragged her eyes open. The Doctor was watching her curiously, his blue eyes catching all of the dim moonlight and lasering it back at her. He probably thought she was thick. Here she was, a seasoned traveller of space and time. About time she acted like it.

"Right," she said, keeping her voice low. "Let's go." And she walked firmly away from him, setting the course.

He caught up to her, and, after a moment of silence, suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her around a corner. She was momentarily flummoxed, staring down at their joined hands. It felt exactly the same, and yet totally different. And so damn familiar.

Then she heard the footsteps. Of course he had heard them before she did. Advanced sense of hearing and all of that. Three soldiers, moving very quickly. Practically running. Out of breath.

"...something to do with that strange-looking man who climbed over the wall," one was saying.

"You mean the one in the long cloak? With the strange footwear?" asked the other.

"Yes, he…" They had rounded a corner. Rose couldn't hear any more of the conversation. But she knew exactly who they were talking about.

"Come on," murmured the Doctor, pulling her forward, their hands still entwined.

"We need to go over the wall," she said.

He looked at her like she'd gone mad. "We need to what?"

"We need to climb over the wall."

"Climb over the wall?" The Doctor looked up at the wall towering over him. "What sort of bloody, foolish, attention-seeking git would climb over the wall of Troy?"

Rose bit back her laugh. "You did."

She had never seen the Doctor look so astonished." i _I /i _ did?"

"The bloke with the long coat and the strange footwear that climbed over the wall? That's you."

"Long coat?" The Doctor looked down at his leather jacket.

"You don't wear that coat anymore. You wear this coat that goes down to your ankles." Rose gestured vaguely at his ankles.

The Doctor looked horrified. "Don't tell me any more. You've already told me too much."

"Right. So. Over the wall, then." Rose stepped forward, grasped handholds.

"Rose."

"What?" Rose grunted as she pulled herself up to the next handholds, searching for footholds.

"We could just use the sally port."

She looked down at him. He was standing next to quite a sizeable door in the wall. "Oh. You're right. We could." She grinned and jumped lightly down from off the wall.

The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, aimed it at the lock for the door, and eased it open. They found themselves in a stifling tunnel, no light or sound permeating the stone walls from the outside; it would have been claustrophobic with anyone other than the Doctor. Using his sonic screwdriver as a torch, the Doctor led them through the darkness, following its twists and turns until they reached another heavy door. After pausing and listening intently for what felt like several minutes, the Doctor adjusted the settings on the screwdriver and pointed the device at the door. He turned to her.

"Ready?"

She nodded. They slipped outside, and he closed the door behind him, giving it another blast from the sonic screwdriver. Then he looked up at the top of the wall and frowned. "No archers in addition to no guards. That's weird."

"Why? Maybe they don't stand guard at night," she suggested.

He shrugged and looked at her. "Why would I put the walls of the city of Troy between the two of us?"

"Off a guess? You were being chased. The soldiers weren't too happy to find you with me."

"Good thing I've regenerated then." He began walking away from the wall, at a casual pace.

"I didn't say you regenerated," she said, hastily, as she jogged to catch up with him.

"You didn't have to. I never wear a coat down to my ankles. And I didn't get executed during dinner, so they clearly didn't find _me_ with Helen of Troy. And that's a good thing. And i _that's /i _ the Greek army." He waved his hand.

Rose looked. . There were torches burning intermittently, in the middle of a sea of humanity that stretched an impossibly long distance. She halted, drinking it in. The Greek army. Of the Trojan War. He had stopped beside her, also looking. "Travelling with you," she breathed, staring at the troops. "It never gets old."

He was silent for a moment, then slid his hand into hers. And it didn't feel shocking. It felt exactly right. "It i _is /i _ impressive." He began walking toward the troops, hand in hers. "I've never been on this side of the wall before."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised." He glanced back at her.

"Considering how much you love Odysseus, I can't believe you spent all your time in Troy."

"So you think I love Odysseus, do you?"

"Oh, it's worse than that," she complained. "You've got this little man-crush on Odysseus."

He stopped walking abruptly. "I've got a i _what_? /i "

"Oh, don't worry. It's cute. But you do."

He looked displeased, as he started walking again. "And what makes you think I feel this way about Odysseus?"

"You're constantly trying to read 'The Odyssey' to me. When we could be doing other things," she grumbled.

"Other things like what?"

Rose blushed before she could help it. She actually suspected the Doctor pulled "The Odyssey" out whenever he wanted to be seduced, because it was consistently what ended up happening.

"I think I should stop talking," she said, at the same time he said, "I think you should stop talking."

They walked in silence for a little while, getting closer and closer to the Greek encampments, until Rose drew to a stop. Because they were still holding hands, he stopped walking, too, and looked at her expectantly.

She licked her lips. She wondered what he would do if she just snogged the life out of him, just once, for old times' sake. She decided against that course of action. "Sooooo…" she began.

"So?" he said.

"We should probably…I mean, I'll…find you, and then…timelines…and such…"

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Rose Tyler?"

"No," she said, honestly, looking up into his eyes. "I'm not." She was suddenly afraid she was going to cry, which was stupid. She still had him, she reminded herself. He was somewhere in this crowd of Greek soldiers. Probably he'd found Odysseus and was bouncing around him like an overenthusiastic fanboy. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

"How are you going to find me in all of this?"

Rose glanced at the chaotic mass of human beings and smiled. "Oh, I'll just…look for the commotion. You're sure to be in the middle of it."

"You really think I'm abandoning you in the middle of the Greek army? I don't think so. It seems to me you're a bit jeopardy-friendly."

She grinned. "That's not the last time you're going to tell me that."

"Fantastic," he said.

She did that thing she knew he loved in both of his incarnations, sticking the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she smiled. "You love it," she told him.

The Doctor stood at the front of the Greek lines, specs on, and stared at the enemy: the wall of Troy. He didn't really need the glasses to see the wall, but they helped him think. And he needed to think. Because he needed to get to Rose. If Rose was still there when Helen showed up…and if anyone did anything to Rose…Well, if anyone did anything to Rose he'd have to tear down Troy brick-by-brick, and that would be total hell on the timeline, so it would be best to avoid that.

The Doctor took off his glasses and swept his coat back so he could bury his hands in the pockets of his trousers as began strolling toward the wall. He didn't have a clear plan at the moment, but if he could just get closer, maybe he could—

His eyes swept along the top of the wall. No archers. He would have expected archers. The walls weren't as well-defended as they could have been, as evidenced by the knot of Greek soldiers who had found him immediately after he'd launched himself over the wall. But he would have expected the front gate to have archers defending it.

He kept walking, and the thought occurred to him. Why couldn't he go right over the wall again? What was stopping him? There were no archers. He'd have to be very, very, very, very unlucky to climb over the wall and right into a Trojan patrol on the other side. And, anyway, he'd be careful about it.

He picked up his pace, walking more quickly now that he had a plan. He didn't look behind him. Surely no one would notice him. He'd made it this far.

As he passed the halfway point between Troy and the Greek army, his feet faltered a bit. There was a strange noise coming from the city. Not loud, just a low buzz. Like a hum of many quiet conversations.

The Doctor began walking more slowly. He gradually drew to a halt. He stood for a second, staring at the massive front gate of Troy, which was only a short distance ahead of him. Something, he thought, did not feel right.

And, at that moment, the gate was very suddenly thrown open and the entire Trojan army came pouring out with a dull roar.

The Doctor had time for one very eloquent curse before he turned to run.

The Doctor, with no effort at all, got them to Odysseus. He flashed the psychic paper and asked where Odysseus was, and just like that, a foot soldier was leading them.

"Why Odysseus?" she asked.

"Because apparently my latest incarnation has some sort of distressing crush on him."

She smiled. "Oh, like you can talk. You drove Dickens mad."

"Dickens?" he exclaimed in delight, eyes sparkling and face split into the grin she had loved. "Do I get to meet—No. Don't answer that. You shouldn't have said anything at all." He put on a stern face, the effect ruined by the excited brightness of his eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. It slipped out. It's—"

The foot soldier stopped before a tent, distracting Rose from her apology. He disappeared inside, then re-emerged with a large, fairly handsome man. Or maybe he wasn't handsome at all, Rose considered. Maybe it was all the force of his quite considerable charisma.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Odysseus," said the Doctor, confidently. "This is Rose Tyler. And, if I'm not mistaken, you've got someone who's looking for her. So I'll just be—" He was clearly trying to slip away before running into his future self.

But Odysseus was frowning at Rose darkly. "Rose Tyler? The Syntagmatarcha was looking for Rose Tyler, wasn't he, Achilles?"

Another man had emerged from the tent. He also frowned at Rose. "I believe that was the title he gave, yes."

"Syntagmatarcha?" said the Doctor standing next to her, in disbelief.

"Why?" asked Rose.

The Doctor ignored her. "Well, where is the Syntagmatarcha? If you could see that Rose is safely delivered to him—"

"I haven't seen him," admitted Achilles. "Not for at least an hour. Not since we said we wouldn't launch an expedition to go into Troy to get Rose Tyler."

"No, he went for a walk, I think," agreed Odysseus.

"Oh, no," groaned Rose. "I'm gonna kill him. He's probably gone back into—"

There was a sudden dull roar of noise, causing Rose to jump, startled. Odysseus and Achilles were both wide-eyed for a moment, and then leaped into action, pushing roughly past Rose and the Doctor. They were suddenly in the middle of a sea of chaos, as soldiers went rushing around, shouting orders, grabbing helmets and armour and tack for horses. The Doctor tugged on Rose's hand to pull her close to him, as the army clamoured to life around them.

"What is it?" Rose asked.

"The Trojan army," he answered, grimly. "And I've got an idea they're looking for you. There. Get up on that," he said, as someone jostled into them. He nudged Rose.

Rose looked, saw a trunk not far from them, and clambered on top of it. The Doctor followed her.

Rose peered through the moonlight toward the awe-inspiring sight of the Trojan army pouring out of its city, in full attack mode. A great snake of an army. Chasing one single figure, running in a flat-out dash. With a long coat flapping in the air behind him. Rose blinked, watching the remarkable sight of her current Doctor outrunning the Trojan army, while her previous Doctor stood next to her. She turned to tell him.

He looked down at her, sighing in resignation. "That's me, running in front of the army, isn't it?"

She laughed. She couldn't help it. And she turned back to watch the spectacle. The fleeing Doctor was beating the army easily. She was not all that concerned that he wouldn't be able to make it behind Greek lines. She was concerned that she might not be able to find him once he did so. But, to her relief, the well-trained Greeks had already marched into a formation, and, as she watched, surged up to meet the Trojans. The Doctor ducked between the lines and past them, as they raced past him, and, in a moment, he was standing in the clear, turning to watch the battle that was now raging only a short distance away from him.

And she didn't think. It was odd, because she had spent all evening thinking how much she missed her old Doctor, and now that her new Doctor was so near, she could think of nothing but how much she had missed_ i him /i _. She leaped off the trunk, shouting for him, and he somehow heard her above the commotion, because he turned in her direction. He looked thunderstruck to find her dashing toward him, but he also did exactly what she expected him to, which was to open his arms. She launched herself into the waiting embrace, and he closed his arms around her and swung her in an exuberant circle. She laughed, delighted, into the wonderfully familiar curve of his neck. Different smell. New, new Doctor smell. And it was nice, she thought. Just as nice as the old Doctor smell. She was doomed to always be missing one of them, she thought.

"I missed you," she told him, the din of battle growing softer as the fighting moved away from them.

"How the i _hell /i _ did you find me?" he asked her, pulling back a bit to look down at her, astounded.

She giggled. "I figured you had to be in the middle of the battle."

He glanced over at said battle. "Yes, well…"

"I may have caused this particular battle."

"Doesn't surprise me in the least," he replied, and then he surprised her by kissing her. The Doctor was big on hand-holding and hugs but not fond of public snogging at all. Which was why she knew he had to have been more worried than he would ever admit, if he was giving her a breathless, intense snog like this right where anyone could see.

He came up for air. "Are you alright?" he gasped at her. "Truly?"

"I'm fine."

"If anyone laid a finger on you—"

"I'm fine."

He brushed his lips over hers again, and then went to bury his face in her neck. At least, she assumed he was about to do that, but instead he froze. And she knew instantly what he was looking at. She turned her head awkwardly. There was the old Doctor, a short distance away, watching them with his arms folded and looking not half gobsmacked.

"Oh," said the Doctor whose mouth was closest to her ear. He closed his eyes. "I should have known." He opened his eyes then, looking back at his previous self. "I've had the strangest feeling all day. It's kind of like…what you would call déjà vu. I kept thinking that I'd brought you here before. But I knew I hadn't. Crossed timeline. Of i _course /i _. How did I not recognize that immediately?" He sighed. "It's been a while, I suppose."

She looked between both Doctors. "Are you going to go talk to him?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"He's going to yell at me for, well, i _us /i _." The Doctor looked displeased.

Rose was amused. "So?"

"So?!" he echoed. "Look at me! I'm all…dour and disapproving and dull and…other things that begin with 'd.'"

"Doctor-ish?" she teased.

He sighed. "And I bloody loved to give i _lectures /i _ in that incarnation."

Rose had to laugh at that.

He looked at her finally, offended. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He reluctantly extricated his arms from around her. "Stay here," he said. "Don't wander off." He emphasized the command with a slight jab of his index finger.

Oh, yes, she thought watching him. He was far more similar from incarnation to incarnation than he seemed to think.

"So," said one Doctor to the other.

"So," the other replied.

There was a moment of silence.

"Nice coat."

One Doctor brightened and glanced behind at the flow of his coattails. "Isn't it, though?" he agreed, pleased.

"Would it kill you to cut your hair once in a while?"

Now the Doctor looked hurt. "But it's i _supposed /i _ to look like this." He paused. "Rose likes it."

"I'm sure she does." There was a pause. "You're travelling with a woman who's just been mistaken for the most beautiful woman in the world."

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder at Rose. "Welllllll." He tugged at his earlobe. "We have good taste."

There was another pause. "You're i _shagging /i _ a woman who's just been mistaken for the most beautiful woman in the world."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck and grinned bashfully. "Welllllll, we have good taste."

The Doctor shook his head a bit and regarded Rose, looking lovely in the moonlight as she watched the two of them. "I find it hard to believe that you really are…"

"With her?"

"Older than me."

"Ah." A moment of silence. "A gift from your future. Because I rather like the future you've got in store right now and I'd like to keep it that way." The Doctor turned away from Rose, back toward his previous self. "Ask her again. Tell her it travels in time."

There was another very long moment. They regarded each other across the gulf of their impossible shared future.

"Is your TARDIS in Troy?"

"Yes."

"So's ours." Another pause. He really hated conversing with himself. "Shall we get back into Troy?"

"I recommend using a sally port while the army's otherwise occupied."

"Excellent idea," he beamed.

The two Doctors were silent. She walked between the two of them as they skirted the slowly-waning battle and did not hold the hand of either, because she didn't want to upset the other. And holding hands with both seemed like a ridiculous thing to do, for some reason. The previous Doctor reached his sonic screwdriver first and did the honours of opening the door and lighting the way for them through the sally port; her current doctor fussed and made sure her hair was completely covered before they re-emerged into the fortress. They came to the current Doctor's TARDIS first, and they stood for a moment outside, a bit awkwardly, before Rose gave in to the impulse and gave her old Doctor a fierce hug. One last embrace, she thought, as she buried her face for a moment in his shoulder. A gift from her past. He seemed as if he didn't know what to do, then hugged her back.

She stepped away and grinned at him. "See you soon," she said. Then she turned to her current Doctor. "You, too." The tip of her tongue made its taunting appearance through her teeth, and then she ducked into her TARDIS.

He looked back at his prior self and remembered exactly what it felt like, without Rose and without Gallifrey and so deadeningly alone. He usually tried as hard as he could _not_ to remember, because the memories, when they came, were always so painfully vivid. "It gets better," he promised.

"Does it?" Blue eyes met brown, solemn.

The Doctor sucked in a breath. "No," he admitted. He exhaled slowly. "But it gets bearable. And I don't think we can ask for more." He reached behind for his TARDIS door, opened it, stepped in. And remembered.

Remembered his astonishment at seeing Rose at dinner. Remembered how, even then and despite still smarting from her rejection in London, he was uncomfortably attracted to her. Remembered being surprised to see her climbing out a window in the darkness. Remembered the flicker of joy mingled with sorrow he saw on her face in the moonlit garden. Remembered the feel of holding her hand as they escaped through the city. Remembered his shock at seeing his future incarnation kiss her so freely and passionately. And he remembered his fear that he would screw up the future he saw once Rose was returned to his current incarnation.

Rose was on him immediately, startling him, bringing him back to the present, her face in his throat. He returned the embrace for a moment, wishing that he didn't feel that she wanted to be clinging to someone else. "You've had an emotional day," he sighed, finally. "I'm sorry."

"I missed you." She lifted her head to look at him. "I missed you terribly. Do you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you, Rose."

"I was so happy to see him, but I was just as happy to see you, and anyway, you're the same person."

"I know I'm the same person. You don't need to explain regeneration to me." He thought he sounded cross, so he softened it with a grin. "Where do you want to go next?" He stepped around her, began pushing buttons and levers on the console.

"No, I mean it," said Rose, in frustration, following him. "I miss him. I'll probably always miss him. But I had my time with him, and every moment of it was lovely. Now this is my time with you. Equally lovely." She took his hand and kissed his knuckle. She had his attention, she knew, because he'd stopped randomly flipping levers and was looking at her. "Someday, when you regenerate again, I'll miss i _you /i _. But then I'll have my time with the next you. And that'll be equally lovely, too." There was something in his eyes, deep in them. She thought that he didn't dare to hope that every Doctor was the same to her, every incarnation equally adored. She ruffled his hair and leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. "Do you believe me?" she whispered.

He breathed her in, so close and so perfect, and thought how, in the moment before he had spotted his previous self, he would never in a million years have ever doubted how Rose felt about him. He closed his eyes and leaned into her and brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. "I do," he whispered back.

She felt him relax against her, felt the tension leave him, and she smiled in relief.

"I met Odysseus," he said, after a moment.

"I know. So did I."

"That's right. You did. Dammit. I really wanted to take you to meet Odysseus."

"You did." She said, reasonably.

"No. i _He /i _ did. i _I /i _ wanted to."

"Maybe after Odysseus gets home to Penelope, we can go meet up with him again and have a laugh about all this."

"How do you know about Penelope? We never get nearly that far in 'The Odyssey.'"

"I have my ways," she said, airily.

There was a moment of silence. "You've been reading 'The Odyssey' behind my back."

"Maybe. Did you embarrass yourself fawning over Odysseus?"

"Of course not!"

She giggled, then straightened and took his hand. "Send us into the Vortex, and then come read 'The Odyssey' to me."

He pressed a few buttons. "You mean that euphemistically, right?"

She graced him with that teasing smile again, and he smiled back and did something that surprised her. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, with a tender affection that once again reminded her that more was similar between her two Doctors than was different. "Where was it, in your timeline?" she asked. "I couldn't figure it out."

"Let's just say that right now, I'm sending the TARDIS back to a certain spot in South London so I can add that it also travels in time."

It took a while for their TARDIS to de-materialize. He didn't really want to speculate as to why, but he stood and watched until it had vanished entirely, even the vworp-vworp fading on the wind. Then he turned and trudged over to his TARDIS. It looked exactly as he had left it, which seemed unbelievable to him, considering how drastically different his life suddenly felt.

He stood at the console and regarded his scribbled Gallifreyan on the Post-It notes. He ran his hands over the controls, shifting them slowly and purposely. He stood for a moment, scanning the read-outs on the screen.

He needed to block his memories of meeting Rose—he'd seen too much for it to be safe. But for just a few moments, he wanted to savour them—to know there was hope in the bleakness that was his life. He grabbed the pad of yellow sticky notes and a Biro, and scribbled a quick note to himself: i _Tell her it travels in time. It's worth it. /i _He'd block the memory as soon as he pulled the last lever to go back to London, to ask Rose to come with him and give him that future he'd just seen.

Then he looked up at the centre column. "This once," he said, out loud. "Give me just this once. Bang on time. Perfect. Please." He took a deep breath. "I need this one."

He reached out and flipped up the last lever, and his TARDIS hummed into action.


End file.
